


Scottish Fling

by Westwhistle (Whistle)



Category: Lancer - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Short Stories, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:52:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whistle/pseuds/Westwhistle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Murdoch and Teresa have a surprise for the Lancer sons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scottish Fling

The girl’s smile spread across her face. Her pink lips parted and her pearly teeth glistened.

“Think of me as a mother,” she crooned, fastening bright eyes on the young man.

Scott Lancer fell out of his bed.

It had to be a nightmare, he thought, sitting up and rubbing various bruises that needed rubbing. It just had to be a nightmare. His father was getting to be a dangerous age, but the hardheaded Scotsman who built the largest ranch in the valley couldn’t be that foolish. He couldn’t be.

Still, the dream had been extraordinarily vivid. Scott decided to cross the hall to visit his younger brother. Johnny would know if their father had lost his mind, since Murdoch would probably take it out on him first. If Johnny were sleeping peacefully, untroubled by a similar nightmare, Scott could always sneak back to his own room and no one would be the wiser.

Scott limped across the hall cautiously. It wouldn’t do to wake Johnny suddenly. Old habits died hard, as did anyone who woke the former gunfighter too abruptly and didn’t have the good sense to dive for the floor. They had buried poor old Jelly just a few months earlier, and it had cost a small fortune before the court agreed to drop the charges. Murdoch had threatened to take it out of Johnny’s pay for the next fifty years or so, but he had changed his tune when the youngest Lancer suggested lightning might strike twice and the previous case established a legal precedent.

Murdoch had once hoped his younger son might study law when he grew up, but was less than pleased by this evidence that Johnny could have used his killer instincts to become a successful lawyer and saved the ranch all the money it spent on legal fees.

Scott really didn’t have it in his heart to blame his younger brother for shooting Jelly, but he had already hit the floor painfully that night and didn’t want to repeat the experience. He also didn’t think it would be wise to wake Murdoch with gunshots, under any circumstances. The big rancher was far too likely to swing at the nearest son, not necessarily the son with the gun.

A low moan interrupted his thoughts just when he was becoming uncomfortably cold in the drafty hallway. He brightened at once. Apparently, Johnny was hurt again and wasn’t asleep. Scott didn’t remember hurting his little brother, so it should be safe enough for him to just walk into the room.

He knocked first anyway, just to be sure, before pushing the heavy door open. He stopped, puzzled. A low light burned on the table, but Teresa wasn’t hovering over his brother with herbal teas from hell, or keeping him awake by sponging his fevered brow.

It wasn’t like Teresa to leave Johnny alone if he were sick or hurt. Scott’s stomach lurched as he padded across the wooden floor.

Johnny had two black eyes and a cut lip. More bruises marked his ribs, but no one had bandaged them, to Scott’s surprise. Teresa was always lavish when it came to bandaging the Lancer brothers.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

Johnny looked at him blearily. He couldn’t open his eyes more than a slit. “Murdoch,” he mumbled. “Told him he was an old fool, and he hit me.”

Scott was going to be sick, extremely sick. He looked around for the basin.

“Scott?” Johnny moaned again. “Water.”

“Do I look like Teresa?” Scott couldn’t find the basin. “Get it yourself.”

“Can’t,” Johnny whispered. “Please?”

“Wait until I’m done,” Scott snapped, striding over to the window and thrusting his head and shoulders out. “I’m not feeling well either.”

Johnny waited while Scott threw up out the window. When he was done, Scott poured a glass of water and took a few sips to rinse out his mouth before he carried it over to his brother. Johnny hissed with pain when Scott raised him.

“Murdoch doesn’t usually break your ribs,” Scott said. “You’re not going to be able to work for a while.”

Johnny winced, trying to find a comfortable position. “Well, he doesn’t get married every day either.”

“Married?” Scott thought he had already lost all the contents of his stomach, but his gut twisted again when Johnny said the word aloud.

“Ummph,” Johnny said, closing his eyes as Scott staggered toward the window.

***

Teresa glowed at breakfast, despite the fact that the housekeeper was missing and there wasn’t any breakfast cooking. She was eating a large slice of cake, which also happened to be the last slice of cake.

The girl made no move to get up and pour Scott some coffee, and he finally stood and went to the stove. He burned his hand on the handle of the pot and yelped.

“Where’s Maria?” he asked, sticking his sore fingers in his mouth.

“Oh, I fired her.” Teresa took a sip of her coffee.

“You did what?” Scott’s eyes bulged.

“This is my house now and she’s too bossy,” Teresa said. “So I fired her.”

“Who’s going to cook for us?” Scott objected. “Or take care of us?”

Teresa wrinkled her nose. “You know, you and Johnny are both a little old to be living in your father’s house. Perhaps it’s time for you to think about moving out on your own.”

“Teresa, this house – and its contents – belongs to all three of us, not just Murdoch,” Scott pointed out. “Johnny and I are equal partners in the ranch.”

“Including the house?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes, definitely including the house. And there is a comprehensive inventory. Does Murdoch know you fired Maria?”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Murdoch is tired,” she purred. “He’s not up yet.”

Scott itched to slap her, but restrained himself. He had responsibilities to deal with first. “Johnny has at least two fractured ribs, maybe three,” he said. “Could you keep an eye on him this morning and make sure he’s as comfortable as possible? I sent a man into town for the doctor, but it will be a few hours before Sam can get here.”

“Which man did you send?” Teresa asked, ignoring the question of whether she’d look after Johnny.

“That new redhead,” Scott said. “He was hanging around outside the house for some reason. I don’t know if he’s going to last long. I don’t like his attitude.”

Teresa’s eyes narrowed and she tossed her head. “Murdoch calls the tune, not you. I don’t think you should be making any decisions about hiring or firing without consulting us.”

“Is that so?” Scott glared at her. “And just what makes you think that’s suddenly any of your business.”

Teresa held up her hand. “This does,” she said smugly, displaying her wedding ring.

***

Murdoch still hadn’t made an appearance by the time Sam Jenkins arrived in his buggy. The old doctor strapped Johnny’s ribs securely and told him to stay flat on his back for a few days. He also managed to slip him some laudanum. By then, Johnny was so parched that he gulped the drug-laced water eagerly.

“Where’s Teresa?” Sam asked Scott once Johnny was asleep.

“I don’t know.” Scott led the way down the stairs to the great room. “I asked her to look after Johnny this morning, but she obviously hasn’t been near him.”

“How did Johnny get hurt?” Sam said. “And what does the other guy look like?”

“The other guy is Murdoch. He apparently thought Johnny was out of line when he objected to his new stepmother.”

“His new what?” The doctor’s jaw dropped.

Scott poured two healthy slugs of Murdoch’s best brandy. “His new stepmother. Murdoch and Teresa had a little surprise for us when they returned to the ranch yesterday from Spanish Wells.”

“What do you mean?”

Scott downed the contents of his glass and poured another. “They eloped.”

“They did what?” Sam inhaled brandy down his windpipe and choked. Scott grabbed the glass out of his hand and pounded on his back.

“You’re not serious?” Sam said, his eyes streaming, when he had caught his breath again.

“Believe me, I wish I was not.” Scott poured himself another drink. “Teresa is now Mrs. Murdoch Lancer.”

“Is he out of his mind?”

“Good question.” Scott cocked his head. “Do you think we could have him committed?”

Sam scowled. “I never would have thought it. That old goat and that sweet child.”

“She’s not as sweet as you think,” Scott informed him. “Teresa fired Maria this morning and suggested that Johnny and I move out of the house.”

“She fired Maria? But that woman is like a mother to all three of you.”

“Teresa is our mother now. I don’t suppose you’d like to adopt two sons?” Scott gave the doctor a hopeful look.

Murdoch seemed oddly dazed when he finally did emerge from his room. Scott and Sam were still in the great room, and the level in the brandy bottle was diminishing rapidly.

“Did you sleep well?” Sam asked his old friend sarcastically.

Murdoch shuffled over to the liquor cabinet. He was pale and seemed to be embarrassed. As far as Scott was concerned, he should be. The rancher poured the rest of the brandy into his glass. “Why are you here, Sam? Somebody get hurt?”

“I’m here to treat your younger son for three broken ribs and a concussion,” Sam said. “You do remember how Johnny got three broken ribs and a concussion, don’t you?”

“No.” Murdoch scratched his head. “Should I?”

Sam put his glass down and stood up. “There’s no fool like an old fool,” he announced. “I’m going.”

“Sam,” Teresa said from the doorway. She was wearing a new, low-cut dress, made from a shimmering material, not her usual jeans and loose cotton blouse. It did nothing for her scrawny body. “How nice of you to drop by to congratulate us.” She strolled over to Murdoch and took his arm.

“Congratulate you?” Sam shook his head. “Murdoch, you should be horsewhipped. Teresa, did he force you into this? It’s not to late to have it annulled.”

“Force me? Of course not.” Teresa laughed and gave the doctor an arch look. “And I’m afraid it’s much too late to have it annulled. Isn’t it, sweet one?”

Murdoch turned dark red. “I need some air,” he muttered and headed for the French doors. A moment later, there was an angry bellow. “Who the hell was sick all over the terrace last night and didn’t clean it up?”

***

Scott and Johnny holed up in Johnny’s room while he healed. Scott went to the bunkhouse to pick up meals for both of them. Teresa wasn’t doing any edible cooking and Maria had flatly refused to return to a house occupied by a puta, not even for the sake of the Lancer sons.

Johnny wanted to move out, but Scott didn’t see why they should.

“This is our house too,” he argued. “If we move out, we’ll be giving Teresa exactly what she wants.”

“If we stay, I’m gonna shoot her.”

“Johnny,” Scott warned. “You know what the judge told you about that. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”

Johnny hung his head. He really missed Jelly, especially now that he was laid up and no one had any interest in fussing over him. For all of his complaints, Johnny was finding that he missed the attention.

Course, it could just be that he missed regular meals, a drink of water when his mouth was so dry he couldn’t swallow, and more frequent visits to the privy. Scott was doing his best, but he was also running the ranch single-handed. Johnny thought he might bust before Scott finally came to help him that afternoon. He tried getting up by himself, despite Sam’s orders, but the room still spun when he tried to lift his head off the pillow and his ribs protested every movement.

“Boston, do you reckon you could bring me a bottle?”

“A bottle? I don’t think alcohol is the solution, Johnny, not with a concussion.”

“An empty bottle,” Johnny said.

“Oh.” Scott paused. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

“Thanks.” Johnny closed his eyes. The swelling had turned black, green and purple. He could barely see out of them. “How’s Murdoch doing?”

“I haven’t actually seen him often, and he hasn’t had much to say.”

An inappropriate grin slid across Johnny’s mouth. “Wearing himself out?”

“That is something I would really prefer not to even think about,” Scott said.

Johnny snickered.

***

“Look,” Teresa said proudly. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Murdoch Lancer had a headache. He always had a headache these days. He went through life in a haze, rising late, napping through the afternoon and going back to bed soon after supper. He rarely even mustered enough energy to yell at his two sons.

And now he had two more. He looked down sourly at the red, scrunched-up faces, side by side in the cradle. Twins, for god’s sake. No matter what Teresa said, they were not beautiful. Murdoch stared at them and didn’t feel even a twinge of fatherly instinct. He was much too old for this.

He couldn’t even remember doing anything to cause this. He slept like the dead every night, well into the morning.

One of the twins started to cry. The other promptly joined in. Murdoch staggered as if someone had struck him and put his hands on his ears.

“Two more little Lancers,” Teresa cooed. “Tell the nurse to take them out of the room until they stop making all that noise.”

Murdoch looked helplessly at the woman hired to help Teresa. She pursed her lips, but picked up the twins and carried them out. The door closed behind her with enough force to make Murdoch’s head throb again.

“That’s better,” Teresa said. She smiled at Murdoch. “Of course, you’ll make the boys partners in the ranch, won’t you? Just like their brothers?”

Murdoch sat in the nearest chair. “I can’t do that, Teresa,” he said carefully.

“What do you mean?” Teresa shot up in the bed, her eyes narrowing. “You made Scott and Johnny partners.”

“That’s the trouble. Scott and Johnny own two-thirds of the ranch.”

“But you have four sons now.”

Murdoch wished she wouldn’t keep reminding him of that. “I hardly anticipated that when we drew up the partnership.”

“So are you saying that when – if – something happens to you, the twins will have to split your third between them? Instead of getting a full share, like their brothers?”

“Well, no,” Murdoch said, longing to lie down somewhere, preferably somewhere else. Her shrill voice vibrated through his skull. “Not exactly.”

“What, exactly?” Teresa demanded.

“I put my share into an irrevocable trust,” Murdoch confessed. “For Scott and Johnny’s children.”

“What?” Her shriek echoed through the house. Murdoch clutched his head tighter.

“Don’t, please,” he begged.

“What about me?” Teresa demanded. “What about me and the twins?”

“You’d get my personal estate, I suppose,” Murdoch said slowly. “My horse, clothes, a few small investments. Almost everything is part of the ranch, but I do own an old homestead just outside Green River. You wouldn’t starve as long as you’re willing to do some work. You could keep chickens and a milk cow, and grow most of what you and the twins need.”

She stared at him. “Get out!”

“What?”

“I said, get out!” Teresa reached for something on the nightstand and pulled her arm back. Murdoch ducked as a china cup hit the wall behind his head and shattered.

“That’s the good Canton china,” he said disapprovingly. “Scott’s mother brought it with her from Boston more than twenty-five years ago.”

“Is it valuable?”

“Very.”

“Good.” She picked up the matching plate and flung it at him, narrowly missing his ear.

***

Murdoch descended the stairs heavily and looked into the great room. Scott and Johnny each held a twin and were looking at the babies dubiously.

Scott spoke first. “Murdoch, does red hair run in your family?”

“Red hair?” Murdoch sat down in a chair, wincing as his back protested. “No. There’s never been a redhead in my family.”

Scott and Johnny exchanged looks.

“What about Teresa’s family?” Scott asked. “I know her father was dark, but did her mother have red hair?”

Murdoch snorted. “Sometimes, but you could always see the dark roots.”

Johnny’s twin started to cry again and he jiggled it. “Shut up,” he told his little brother.

“That’s not how you do it, Johnny,” Scott said disapprovingly. His twin started to squall too.

Johnny’s twin stopped crying and he smirked. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Scott was pacing back and forth with his twin, trying to soothe it. He thrust it at his brother. “Well, if you’re so good at it, take this one too.”

“I don’t even want this one,” Johnny objected. “Give it to Murdoch. They’re his.”

“I wonder.” Scott jiggled his twin, his face thoughtful. “Sir, you never did tell us much about the circumstances of your marriage.”

“What?” Murdoch gave him a blank look. “I don’t suppose one of you would consider getting me a drink?”

“Certainly, sir.” Scott poured a few fingers of bourbon into a glass and carried it over to his father. He took the opportunity to tuck his twin onto Murdoch’s lap. Murdoch didn’t seem to notice. He was guzzling bourbon. “About your marriage? Johnny and I were just a bit surprised when you came back to Lancer and Teresa announced that you had married.”

Murdoch sighed. “Me too,” he said glumly.

“When did you decide to get married?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Where did you get married?”

Murdoch shook his head helplessly. “I don’t remember that either.”

Johnny whistled. “That must have been some bender, old man. Didn’t think you had it in you.” His grin widened and he looked down at the twin he was still holding. “Course, didn’t think you had this in you either.”

Murdoch held out his glass. “More, please.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” Scott said. “It’s most unwise to mix opiates with alcohol.”

“Opi-what? What are you talking about, Boston?”

“He’s obviously been drugged,” Scott said. “I should have realized it earlier.”

The front door opened and one of the ranch hands walked in without knocking and headed for the stairs. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the three Lancers together in the great room. He had red hair and a freckled, homely face. It reminded Murdoch of something, but he couldn’t think of what it was.

“Howdy,” the man said. “Um, Miz Teresa wanted a hand with something.”

“I bet she did.” Johnny hadn’t ever had much schooling, but could manage simple arithmetic. In this case, one plus one equaled four, counting the twins. “How long have you been giving her a hand, Riley?”

Riley blushed and Murdoch suddenly realized why he looked so familiar. He looked down at the homely little red face in his lap and back at the cowboy.

“They’re yours!” he accused.

“They’re sure as hell not yours,” Teresa said from the top of the staircase.

“Thank God,” the three Lancers said simultaneously.

***

The Rileys departed in the buckboard. Murdoch assured them there was absolutely no need for them to return it. Johnny quietly picked out a different horse when he heard that. He had never liked the big gray. It was showy but had a tendency to bite, even the hand that fed it. He swore at the horse when it tried to give him a parting nip, and fastened the harness. He figured it would be perfect for Teresa and her new family.

As it turned out, Teresa and the cowboy were married, and she and Murdoch were not. Johnny didn’t think the Riley marriage would last too long, not if he were any judge. He wasn’t a judge, of course, but he’d had a fair amount of experience with them in his young life.

He felt a little sorry for the twins, at least, he did until one of them spit up on his favorite shirt.

“John!” Murdoch thundered when the buckboard rolled out of the yard. “I don’t want to hear any more of that language! Don’t you two have any work to do?”

Johnny sighed. The old man was getting back to normal awful fast. Murdoch had perked up right away when Teresa and her twins left.

Scott interceded. “Sir, Johnny and I have been doing all of the work for the last nine months, including yours.”

“Not very well, from the looks of it,” Murdoch grumbled. “The place is a mess.”

Scott caught his brother’s eye and shook his head vigorously. Johnny’s face was rebellious, but he let his hand drift away from his gun.

“I’m sure you could have done better, sir,” Scott said. “That is, you could have if you hadn’t let an eighteen-year-old girl drug you into a stupor.”

Murdoch didn’t expect this son to hit below the belt. He thought Scott’s grandfather had raised him to be a gentleman.

He noticed Johnny was grinning, and itched to wipe that smile off his younger son’s face. “Well, I’m not drugged now. And the two of you better get used to it. I’m back in the saddle and I’m going to call the tune here.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, confused by the mixed metaphor.

A slow smile spread across Murdoch’s face. “Think of me as your father.” He reached out and snagged his sons’ shoulders, turning them toward the house. “Drink?”

END

Whistle, December 2005


End file.
